Sherlock
by Poppy67
Summary: I can't think of a proper summary...:-
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in his Sherlock Holmes series of books and of course the BBC television Series Sherlock. I in no way claim to own these characters.

Looking over at the clock Evelyn could see there were only 20 minutes remaining in her time with John. For months now, their sessions consisted of deep breathing exercises and meditation due to the usual lack of conversation. She herself usually wrote notes on her previous appointments of the day. John never minded as he once told her that her quick writing was soothing to him as he preferred the quietness to her rooms to anywhere else in London.

"You haven't ever asked me about Harry."

Evelyn sheepishly cut her eyes back to John. She couldn't believe he had come back to himself without her realizing. She hated that he saw her looking over at the clock.

"I'm sorry. Excuse me?"

John had indeed noticed Evelyn glancing at the clock and felt a bit worried that she wasn't finding the same comfort of their...sessions of quiet contemplation...that he was.

"Harry, well of course, I mean Harriet, you know, my sister…"

"You're right. I've never asked. I have to confess that I never thought you wanted to talk about her, but if you're feeling the urge, I'd love to hear more about Harriet. In fact, I'd love to hear more about all your family and other friends."

"_Other…..friends…." _John smiled as he wondered aloud if Evelyn meant to place so much emphasis on those last two words.

Evelyn smiled in spite of herself, "Did I place extra emphasis on those words? I'm sure, that I didn't mean too."

"Yes, you did, John responded, and you placed _extra_ emphasis on the words extra emphasis when you yourself know there was no need for the extra in front of the emphasis."

"Am I in for a semantics lesson?" Evelyn genuinely smiled at John because she liked him and whatever conversation they ended up having, she enjoyed.

Now, in spite of his current mood, John returned the smile. He knew Evelyn's time was valuable, but she never rushed him. She never pressured him into speaking about what was on his mind, which even she knew, was his friend Sherlock, John's constant thoughts about his death and the horribly miserable day that he died. Evelyn was a first class professional as he never felt judged by her when his voice would catch at the utterance or mention of Sherlock's name. There had been several times, after he re-started his counseling sessions, in which he'd found that his voice would leave him as a heavy sadness enveloped and overwhelmed him.

In the very early days, Evelyn began scheduling his appointments as her last of the day and she never charged him beyond the second hour even if he didn't leave until after the fourth.

"No, John said, I wouldn't dare." Correcting semantics and grammar was more Sherlock's thing, he said alound.

"So, how is Harriet?" Evelyn said as she tried to salvage the now, last 10 minutes of their session.

"Harry has finally enrolled in a residential rehabilitation center."

"John, Evelyn said with some wonder in her voice, that's wonderful news. I know that makes you feel encouraged."

"That it does honestly. Clara has been more involved in her life and I've even promised to visit her myself."

"Would you like to discuss this big step your sister is taking, more?"

"No, I only really wanted to mention it. Harry has taken more interest in what I've been dealing with and after a call to me and Clara, decided that she'd like to be present more in her own life as well as ours."

"Okay, well then, was there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

John wanted to talk about Sherlock, but he decided that he'd let Evelyn get on with her day as his time was up.

"Not today…no…"

"Nothing at all…Are you certain?"

"No, really Evelyn, John with a small laugh, believe me, I am not going to bore you with another hour of my time."

"How's Mrs. Hudson holding up?"

John was in the process of getting his jacket from the tree near the door. He didn't see the new interest in his therapist's eyes. John, unlike Evelyn, wasn't aware that he'd gotten up and walked normally to the door, but as soon as she'd said Mrs. Hudson's name, he automatically thought of Sherlock. Evelyn's expression changed to concern when she watched as he limped the remaining steps and grabbed his jacket a bit roughly off the tree.

"She's fine." John answered with his back to Evelyn.

"How's your leg John?"

Turning slowly around, John spied his cane laying next to the chair where he'd absent-mindedly left it. He didn't say anything as he limped his way back over and picked it up.

"I think that I hear your next appointment in the foyer. I'll be seeing you the same time next week."

"I can reschedule Mr. Marshall another hour John, I'm sure he won't mind."

"Evelyn, please, I'm trying to get out of here just once without sobbing on your shoulder. Ok?"

"You'd be in luck; this jumper of mine is extra absorbent."

"Thank you for being so understanding, but no, not today."

"Ok, John, Evelyn said sympathetically, we'll discuss your leg and _other _friends next week."

Evelyn finally got up from her chair and walked with John to the door. She wasn't as surprised as she used to be when he gave her a quick hug.

As he was making his way to the tube, the skies opened up and within a few blocks he was soaked from head to foot.

"Ah, Mrs. Hudson's voice rang out when she heard John's foot-steps on the stairs, you're home early dear."

John limped his way over to his chair and sat down heavily, soggy clothing and all. He was always exhausted after his therapy sessions.

"How was the tube today? Bit crowded I'd expect with all that rain out there."

"I didn't make it to the stop actually. The heaven's opened up on me and I just couldn't face being wet and jostled about with some unruly kid staring at me, so rather than continuing to the station, I decided to take the bus.

"Oh, that sounds even less appealing…"

"The closer it got, the less appealing it looked, and in the end I let it pass by as well."

"Don't tell me you walked all the way home." Mrs. Hudson said.

"No, I didn't walk, John replied as he began undoing his jacket and kicking off his shoes, lucky me, I'm the only person in London who can't stand on the pavement for 5 minutes before either a government car or a cab pulls up alongside."

"Oh well, wasn't that fortuitous?"

"Yes, indeed, John said with a sigh, I was too wet and miserable to ignore the cab, hence I'm home a full 30 minutes early."

"Mycroft will be happy to hear this news."

John didn't respond to Mrs. Hudson's last remark as he knew perfectly well that as soon as he opened the cab door, Mycroft had been told he'd accepted the ride.

"Well, I'm off to take a nice hot shower."

"Yes, do that dear, said Mrs. Hudson, it'll be the best thing for you. You're probably freezing in those clothes."

John scooped up his jacket, jumper, and shoes and was heading up to his bedroom, when he slowly turned back to the sitting room. Out of the corner of John's eye, he'd noticed something leaning on the side of Sherlock's chair. It was a violin.

"Mrs. Hudson, John called down the stairs, what's Sherlock's violin doing sitting on the floor? Better still what's his violin doing out of his bedroom? I locked everything away months ago."

"His…violin…dear?" Mrs. Hudson yelled back up.

"Yes, has someone been in his room?"

Frowning as he threw his clothing down, John picked the instrument up and walked swiftly to Sherlock's bedroom. He didn't know what…or who, he might find in there as he turned the knob and pushed the door in violently. The room was empty save for all of Sherlock's possessions that John cleared of the apartment and locked away. Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft were the only other two people with keys to the place, and although he was upset that one of them could carelessly not return Sherlock's violin to its case, he felt it best to hold his tongue. They loved and were missing Sherlock, same as he was, so he decided not to argue.

Gently placing the violin back where it belonged, John checked the window before leaving the room and re-locking the door.

"Is everything alright dear?"

"It's all fine now."

"I popped out as well while you were gone. I wonder if Mycroft stopped by and spent some alone time with Sherlock's things." Mrs. Hudson said wistfully.

Thinking that it had been Mycroft, John couldn't hold in his angry outburst any longer. "That's bloody disgraceful! How could he be so thoughtless as to leave that…that…as to leave Sherlock's possessions on the bloody floor?" Not waiting for a response and not wanting to look at Mrs. Hudson's shocked face; John yanked up his wet clothing and stomped up to his own bedroom. Thankfully, he had the wherewithal not to slam his bedroom door like a petulant child.

"Has he apologized?"

After only a week, John found himself back in Evelyn's quiet room. Here lately he had increased the time between sessions to 3 weeks or more, but after the last couple of days John called and made an early appointment.

"No, of course, he bloody didn't…John stopped himself and apologized for his language, before he continued. Mycroft tried to pretend he didn't know what I was talking about. I was so angry I made him return the keys to the house and to Sherlock's room."

"Do you think it could have actually been Mrs. Hudson, your landlady? Perhaps she was afraid of what you might say if you'd known she'd forgotten to put Sherlock's violin away."

"No, I believed her. She was as surprised as I was when I lifted it off the floor."

"You do know that Mycroft probably has duplicate keys, right?" Evelyn asked lightly.

"Yeah, duplicate, triplicate and can get a hundred more no matter if I change all the locks and all."

"What about the sound John? Who could have been playing the music?"

"That's just it; I know I heard violin music as I was taking my shower. I turned the water off twice and there was nothing. After I got dressed, I re-checked Sherlock's door and it was still locked. I even went down and asked Mrs. Hudson, but she hadn't heard a thing."

"Can you hear the music now?"

John smiled at his therapist, "No Evelyn, I can't hear the music now."

"Well, I had to ask." Evelyn smiled in return.

"It's just so strange. Why am I cracking up after all this time? It's been nearly a year since…since, you know what…"

"Sherlock's death…Don't look at me like that John, there's no point in not saying the words."

"Since Sherlock's death…I know that I hear Sherlock playing, and as I've mentioned before, last night I heard it again. I was sleeping and thought I was dreaming…"

"You probably were dreaming."

"I woke up, as usual, with tears in my eyes. I strained my ears for 10 minutes or so, just wishing for the tune to begin again. After I'd jumped out of the bed, I checked all the locks, but there was nothing amiss. Sometimes when I hear it, I am so convinced if I go to the sitting room there he'll be standing next to the window playing some tune."

"John, what you're describing isn't uncommon. Why don't you tell me about your feelings for Sherlock? No more hiding. Tell me what Sherlock means to you."

"I miss him."

"I know you miss him, but make him flesh for me. The man you've described so far seems like a cartoon Superhero, dashing about solving crimes, more intelligent than anyone could possibly be…and no real friends except for you. Who was he John?"

John felt the old familiar sadness creeping up on him, but looking at the interested look in Evelyn's eyes, he finally felt as if he could talk about his friend.

"He was my little brother."

Evelyn's face softened.

"I never had a brother. It was always just me and Harry. She's 10 years older than me and from a very early age I knew she didn't like me. I've already mentioned before that we've never gotten on. The age gap between us was too big or something. She's always treated me like her bratty little brother, when I was nothing of the sort. I tried to be friendly, the older I got, but she was too distance, too involved in her own world. I grew up alone. I didn't make friends easily, although people always seemed to like me. I just got on with life. I never tried to join any groups or belong to any clubs, I honestly never thought about any of that stuff. Then as I got older, had been a doctor for a few years, I couldn't escape from the boredom and loneliness of my life. Being a Doctor isolates you, you work long hours, you either are getting home when everyone is asleep or you're asleep when everyone's moving about. Making friends just never crossed my mind."

"Why did you join the Army?"

"It wasn't for companionship, although I wouldn't have dismissed a chance to grab a pint or two with the guys. Umm, I needed to shake up my life. I needed to get some excitement."

"In a war-zone...? You joined and went straight to Afghanistan."

"I know… that's not the usual excitement that everyone longs for, but for the first time in my life, I didn't just feel needed. I felt invigorated. My heart never pounded so much... I knew I made the right decision."

"And did you make friends?"

"No, but at least over there, I didn't feel useless. I didn't have to worry about small talk or patting someone up because they stubbed their toe and the nail was turning blue. I was needed, and I loved it."

"So, how come none of your fellow soldiers became your _little_ _brother_?"

"I don't know, maybe if I hadn't gotten shot, been invalided out…"

"I suppose that makes sense, so tell me, how did Sherlock become so honored?"

"He was a brat." John smiled. "He was truly the epitome of a little brother. Of course, he was Mycroft's genuine little brother, but I considered him mine as well."

"You hadn't been interested in being friends with anyone else, what was so special about him?"

"I think we were kindred spirits. Even-though people liked me and took to me easily, they quickly found that the feeling wasn't reciprocated. I wasn't ever as interested in being their friend as they were in being mine. They'd wander away, and I'd let them go."

"But not Sherlock, you didn't let him wander away. Why?"

"I don't know. From the moment we met, there was a spark. He was weird, different, interesting, and being around him was as exciting as Afghanistan, and almost as dangerous. We connected. Within a day, I knew he was just as lonely as me, and I felt an immediate need to protect him. He was me, but without the hard shell. People are intimidated by him; they whisper about him, they feel small in his presence. There was one guy we met, he was an International Banker no less, a friend of Sherlock's from Uni, he said people used to hate Sherlock. I was stunned. I should have spoken up at the time, but I didn't. I thought at most a person could get short with him, God knows I did, but hate? Never...!"

"And, you never felt small, did you? When he was alive, I mean."

John knew he had slipped into the present tense again. When he thought of Sherlock, he always thought of him in the present, alive. Evelyn heard him and she corrected him. Sherlock has been dead for a year and a half now, but this was the first time John talked about him freely.

"Oh, always, John laughed, but the difference was, I respected him. I liked him, he made me laugh more than anything when I was with him. Mycroft replaced Harry as my older sibling and Sherlock became my little brother."

"The family you always wanted?" Evelyn asked.

"Well, not quite, but it became that way eventually."

"Now, it's just you and Mycroft."

"No, now it's just me, and Mrs. Hudson."

"But Mycroft still plays the role of your older sibling. I know that for myself."

"He tries, but I've told him on several occasions that I don't need his help."

"Why haven't you moved out of 221B? I remember we discussed that possibility several months ago. What's stopping you now from putting Sherlock's possessions in a storage unit somewhere, and taking yourself away from Mycroft's influence?"

"I can't do that."

"You can't do what…move away?"

"Yes, I can't move away."

"Why not John…?"

"What if he comes back and he can't find me? I don't think you understand Evelyn, I can't abandon him. I don't want him to think that I'm just another person that he can't count on."

Evelyn was without words. She stared at John's face as finally in all these many months, he allowed himself to cry. She watched as tears ran from his closed eyes, and glanced down at his hands which were gripping the arms of his chair; his knuckles were white from tension. She knew he didn't really believe Sherlock was dead. Mycroft had revealed as much to her. John was angry with Mycroft and his friend D.I. Lestrade because he felt they'd both given up on Sherlock. He cut Lestrade out of his life and he ignored all of Mycroft's calls and texts.

Later that afternoon, Evelyn received visitors…

"Today was a break-through. He talked about Sherlock, in a way he hadn't in any of his past sessions."

"Finally, I knew you'd be able to get him to open up eventually." Said the smiling but imposing man sitting in the chair John had vacated 2 hours before.

"I can't make John believe his friend is actually dead though." Evelyn responded directly.

"He thinks of me as his little…brother?" The second man, who was stationed in a chair by the door, said disdainfully.

"What do you propose we do about this situation then Evelyn?"

"What more can I do? I listen to him when he wants to talk, and I sit quietly with him when he doesn't." She responded to the first man exasperatedly.

"You can tell him that I'm at least 5 inches taller than he is, and that I've already got an insufferable older brother." Sherlock's belligerent voice interrupted Mycroft's and Evelyn's conversation once again.

"It would help if you would stop leaving your violin out where he can see it for a start." Mycroft said as he turned to his brother.

"And if you wouldn't mind playing your violin when John's not home versus when he's trying to sleep, that would help me out greatly as well." Evelyn said this as she too turned to face Sherlock.

Sherlock had the grace to look away from them both sheepishly.

Turning her attention back to Mycroft, Evelyn said, "I thought you were going to send Sherlock to Siberia or somewhere."

"Harsh" said Sherlock in a quiet voice.

"You hush, I also seem to remember that you said you were going to behave yourself and leave John alone." Evelyn rhetorically said to Sherlock.

"Evelyn, I do apologize for my brother's interference. Believe me, I have put him on several planes to several very hot and or cold destinations, but of course, him being who he is, he always finds a way back home."

"I'm not a dog you two can leave by the side of the road, you know." Sherlock said as he got up to stretch his legs and poke around Evelyn's room.

"Why do you have a key to the apartment anyway Sherlock? You're not supposed to be going over there, it's too risky remember?" Evelyn asked.

"All my things are in my room, Mrs. Hudson makes me tea, and John's there."

"Yes, John's there, which is why you shouldn't be…" said Mycroft. "Evelyn, I too have tried to convince him to move, but that was before he stopped returning my calls."

"Well, Evelyn stated matter of factly, I see nothing for it, we have to tell him Sherlock is alive."

"Yes." Said Sherlock

"Absolutely Not." Said Mycroft

"Well then, what do _you_ propose we do? Evelyn asked pointedly. This is your problem. I'm trying to keep John from going insane, but how can I compete with violin music in his dreams and his mysteriously changing clothes?"

"His what…?" Mycroft asked.

"Oh, you hadn't heard? John set's out clothing he's going to wear the next day as most people do, only in his case, what he sets out at night totally changes _mysteriously_ to a different outfit altogether by morning."

"John has the most appalling sense of color." Sherlock huffed unaware that both Mycroft and Evelyn rolled their eyes at his back.

"Sherlock behave…!" Mycroft said

"Oh no, being told to behave is not enough Mycroft. Sherlock has to relinquish his keys to the apartment, including all the copies he's made, and he has to totally stop visiting John. I have a patient who thinks he's being haunted by his dead friend, whom he considers a little brother, Evelyn said as she ignored Sherlock's grimace, and who for the first time since I've known him cried actual real tears today, in my presence. This has got to stop."

"Well, you can't have my keys. If I don't protect John, who will? If I don't play the violin at night, how will John get to sleep, and if I don't change his jumpers, who's going to take him seriously as a doctor at the clinic? He doesn't eat as he's supposed too, and he hasn't cut his hair in weeks."

Evelyn threw up her hands and Mycroft for what felt like the 10th time, sighed heavily as this is a conversation he has had with Sherlock too many times to count.

"I will protect John, as I always protect him. Mrs. Hudson makes certain to keep the fridge stocked with the foods he likes and he can wear whatever ridiculous jumper he so chooses." Mycroft said to Sherlock's stony face.

"I thought the entire reason for this ruse was so that you could keep John and your other friends safe Sherlock, Evelyn spoke in her sweetest voice, do you think your hovering around him is accomplishing that?"

"I'm not giving up my keys." Sherlock responded petulantly.

"Alright, alright, you don't have to give up your keys, Mycroft interrupted the rant he could hear coming from the tone of Sherlock's voice, but can you convince yourself at least that John can sleep perfectly well without your violin playing in the middle of the night?"

Sherlock opened his mouth, but before he could utter some put down to Mycroft, he heard Evelyn ask worriedly, "Please Sherlock…?"

"Yes. I'll only play when he's in the shower or out to dinner with his lady friends." Sherlock said as he now rolled his own eyes.

"Good," Mycroft said.

"Great." Evelyn responded as she finally smiled at Sherlock

A month later, a remarkably healthy looking and smiling John sat down with Evelyn. He had his hair freshly cut; he was wearing a new jumper, or one she'd never seen before, and the spots he was getting from all the greasy take aways appeared to be clearing up.

"John, I know this is going to sound strange coming from me, but you look great. How are you feeling?"

"I feel good actually. I've been having this rash of good luck lately. Twice, I've opened the newspaper and coupons for free hair-cuts and shaves at the barber of my choice, have fallen out. Can you believe that? he asked without waiting for a response. It appears there was a give-away and I won both times!" he said astoundingly.

"Really, wow that is good luck."

"Yep, but that's not all, after that, Mrs. Hudson bought me five new jumpers because she was tired of me wearing the same ones over and over again, and then even better than all that, Mycroft hired a cook to come in twice a week to prepare my supper."

"Really…?"

"Amazing isn't it? Mrs. Hudson and I have been eating some great meals, and lucky us, the cook even shops for the food before she comes over and everything."

"And you don't mind accepting this gift from Mycroft?"

"I know, I'm a hypocrite, and as much as I love eating beans and toast every-day, it's much nicer to have some fruits and veg mixed in the old diet as well. I am a Doctor after all; I should set a proper example."

"Well, Evelyn smiled, that's really great to hear John. How's your sleeping? Still hearing music at all hours of the night?"

"Actually yes…"

"What…?" Evelyn asked confused.

"I know this is going to sound strange, but I stopped hearing the violin music and then I stopped being able to sleep at all."

"Hmmm, you'd gotten used to the music…"

"Yeah, which was crazy, because there wasn't any violin music playing to begin with..."

"There wasn't…?"

"Well, there was no Sherlock playing any violin music like I believed…It turns out Sherlock once made a CD of himself playing various songs and Mrs. Hudson had been playing it all along. She didn't want to say anything because she thought I would be sad, but when I told her I couldn't sleep, she gave it to me and I've not had a problem ever since."

"So the music wasn't keeping you awake, it was actually helping you to fall sleep." Evelyn said with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, I was amazed at that as well, but I'd forgotten that there were a few times in the past, where I couldn't get to sleep unless Sherlock was playing, and now I have this CD, so I can listen to him play every night if I want."

"That's really wonderful that Mrs. Hudson was able to find that CD then…"

John laughed, "She was really surprised when I told her it was loaded with all the songs that I liked. Once I got it up to my room, I wondered if this had been a gift Sherlock made just for me…"

"How did you feel about that?"

"Upset for a bit, but after listening to it, I knew all these good things happening to me were a sign. Sherlock is alive and he wants me to know it."

"John, I don't think you should…" Evelyn interrupted hurriedly.

"What believe my own eyes?"

Evelyn felt herself tensing up, "What do you mean by that...?"

"Well, I can go on believing that I am the luckiest man to walk the streets of London, pretending that Mrs. Hudson give's a rat's behind about my choice of jumpers, concerning herself with whether I wear the same one day after day, or you can save us both the time and energy of lying to one another, and just go ahead and tell me that wasn't Sherlock I saw leaving your office with Mycroft three weeks ago, after my last session."

"John, I…I don't know what to say…"

"There's no need Evelyn, your expression says it all. I'll be expecting a call from Mycroft, and this time, it won't go ignored."

"I don't think you can see him. Mycroft's sent him away again. I'm sorry John; it's for your own good."

"After all these sessions of listening to me, how can you possibly say that? Evelyn, I like you, and I don't want to argue about this, Sherlock needs me just as much as I need him. He's alone out there fending for himself, it's not right."

"John, Sherlock probably has the entire secret service protecting him, believe me, he's more safe than us."

"He might be safe, but he's alone and there's only one person who knows exactly how he's feeling and that's me. I'll be expecting that call from Mycroft. Ta Evelyn, this has been the best talk we've ever had."

John stood on the pavement in front of Evelyn's office and watched as a cab pulled up and eventually departed as he didn't move towards it. He stood only a few moments more, when a sleek black BMW parked itself in front of him. The door opened and there he found Mycroft.

"221B Baker Street Gerald, Mycroft said to the driver once John had gotten into the car."

"Yep, my good luck continues, eh Mycroft?" John said as he settled into the lush leather seat.

"It's been a month since I was last in this area... Once you'd seen Sherlock, how did you ever hold out this long before contacting me?"

"You mean, why did I continue seeing Evelyn even though I knew you had her office bugged?"

Mycroft frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when he saw that John was smiling.

"Where are my tickets Mycroft? I'm going to get our little brother."

"I should warn you John, Sherlock isn't too happy about that particular moniker."

"Doesn't matter, where are my tickets?"

"Pack a bag John, if you'd still like to take a trip, Gerald will be around to collect you in an hour."

Despite the traffic, Mycroft's driver seemed to have flown as they were already parked outside the apartment. John jumped out of the car and raced up the stairs on the way to his room. He barely registered that there was a curly haired man standing by the window until he turned towards John and smiled.

The End


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in his Sherlock Holmes series of books and of course the BBC television Series Sherlock. I in no way claim to own these characters.

John slowly re-traced his steps leading him away from his bedroom and back into the sitting area…to the smiling figure standing straight and tall in front of the window. His eyes saw, but his mind was so afraid to believe what it was registering. Aside from the smiling figure John had to contend with the blazing sun-light that seemed to be making it all the more difficult to believe what his eyes were truly seeing. He continued making his way into the room, toward the figure before he decided against getting too close, instead, he moved side-ways and sat down heavily in his chair, never once taking his eyes off his visitor.

After what felt like 10 minutes or so, the man's smile had disappeared. He'd called out John's name but got no reply. Finally John closed his eyes and willed the man to be gone, no, the word rushed through his brain, no, that's not right, he didn't want the man to be gone, he wanted the man to be Sherlock. John wanted to hug the man, to feel if he was real, after-all Sherlock was lean but this man was nearly all skin and bones. John couldn't remember when so much light had ever penetrated the curtains, it was playing with his vision and he was afraid that the man would turn out to actually be Anderson, DI Dimmock, or some other slim brunette he'd met or worked with in these past few years.

"John, are you ok? Why won't you speak to me?"

The voice sounded right, filled with more sympathy than he'd ever heard from Sherlock, but definitely still as deep and melodic as John remembered.

Sitting down had been the best thing for John's eyes, as well as, his wobbly knees and his fast beating heart, by having to look up he could better focus and determine definitely that the visitor was his long lost friend. To think a moment ago he was so happy to believe that he'd got one over on Mycroft. He was going to meet up with Sherlock wherever he was hiding, and bring him home, but of course, the Holmes brothers were always three steps ahead of everyone most especially him. John could forget the plane ticket and the pick-up from Gerald, Sherlock had come out of hiding and was home where he belonged. Sherlock recognized the change in John's demeanor and stepped forward once again. He kneeled down in front of John's chair and gathered his only true friend in a warm and very tight hug.

John pulled back after a while and lightly touched Sherlock's face.

"God, if Irene were here she really would cut herself on your cheekbones. When was the last time you ate a meal?"

Sherlock smiled, "Mrs. Hudson beat you to it. She asked me the same thing a month ago."

"A month ago…?" John exclaimed.

"Well, I had to come and see her didn't I? I knew you'd seen me getting into Mycroft's car as we were leaving Evelyn's office. I thought you'd told Mrs. Hudson, but judging from the fright I gave her, it appears that you were holding this news all to yourself."

"I wanted to have one over on Mycroft." John laughed as he watched Sherlock sit down opposite him, returned to the comforts of his leather chair.

"That was ambitious of you, Sherlock laughed in return. Mycroft knew you'd seen me as well. He wondered what your next move was going to be, but as the weeks went by, I must admit we both began to question whether you'd seen me or not. I was just thinking about ways in which I could deceive him and meet you somewhere secretly, but he gave me a call and told me to come straight to 221B, that he was sending you to me."

"And here I thought I was going to get a free trip to some far off destination. Why haven't you been eating? Your clothes are falling off you."

Sherlock smiled as he was replying, "It takes a lot of energy to haunt my old friend Watson."

John laughed genuinely for the first time in what felt like years.

"Free jumpers, a personal cook, and a CD filled with all my favorite music; I should have known you were behind those ridiculous gifts."

Sherlock pulled a sad face, "Didn't you like the CD?"

"It was you I was hearing you in my dreams. Do you know during the span of three days, I didn't get a full wash for turning on and off the shower every-time I thought I heard Beethoven's Romance No. 1?

Sherlock responded seriously, "It's your favorite."

"That it is, John half smiled, and since you are back in the flesh, you'll have to play it for me again, so that I can enjoy it without soap suds in my ears."

"Deal."

"Where the hell have you been Sherlock?" John said abruptly.

Sherlock leaned forward in his chair resting his arms on his knees, "So many places John, I wanted to get word to you but it was impossible. I'm sure you remember my spider analogy, well; I had to sever all the legs. With only Mycroft's help, I was able to track down Moriarty's agents. There is now only one at large, but…"

"But…?"

"Well, I got bored."

John couldn't believe those words. He sucked in his breath and responded amazingly, "You…got…bored?"

"I mean, within a year I'd helped to capture all but this one agent. Mycroft was refusing to allow me to come home, so I spent the next year traveling to make certain Moriarty's guys were safely behind bars. I sent you a few letters, but Mycroft intercepted every one. He continued to say that it wasn't safe. He said you'd gotten married, you were finally happy and that I should let you move on. Then six months ago, he sent me word that your poor wife had died unexpectedly, and that's when I knew I had to return."

"Thank you Sherlock." John said.

"Well, even so, Mycroft was continuing to refuse permission allowing me to get in touch with you. Unknown to him, I was carrying around a few copies of my keys to 221B. Refreshingly, it was actually you yourself who surprised me one night. I was blissfully haunting Mrs. Hudson, when one night, you returned home. Without a word to anyone, you moved your belongings back into the apartment and re-claimed your bedroom."

"You're kidding me Sherlock; you mean that all this time, you've been here?"

"I was in the kitchen when I heard the lock turning. For a moment, I thought the last of Moriarty's men had breached my sanctum, so I hid myself and waited to get the jump on him. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw it was you. I would have come out of my hiding place and surprised you, but I felt Mycroft wouldn't be happy. He's helped me so much John, I simply couldn't go back on my promise not to contact you. I decided it was better if Mycroft didn't know we'd moved back home, but of course, Mycroft knew about me from the first, and he was informed about you from Gerald, who saw you leaving in the morning as he was observing the place parked outside around the corner."

Still astonished, John couldn't help saying, "Six months, we were secretly living together…"

With loads of pride in Sherlock's voice he responded, "Yep."

"Then my hearing your music at all hours of the day and night, sent me into bonkers land, and Evelyn contacted Mycroft, did she?"

"She and Mycroft have a long history John; you shouldn't let that bother you."

John noticed the way Sherlock's eyebrows raised as he said that last statement.

"Oh, John said finally understanding, right, hmmm, so Mycroft and Evelyn…"

"For a time back in the 90s, but they're just friends now…close friends."

"God, so when did the bugging and listening into my therapy sessions begin? Mycroft couldn't have been aware of me when I was first assigned to Evelyn."

"No, he only became interested when you met me. She's an excellent therapist John, very professional, but same as the rest of us, she's very loyal to my brother."

"For a year, I hated your brother. I couldn't stand the sight of his name when I would receive his texts, but then…"

"Then you met Mary."

"Yes, then I met Mary." John responded with a small smile.

"Mycroft says she was already sick when you met her, that she refused to get the proper medical attention even-though it was readily available to her."

"Sherlock, I really wish you could have met her."

Sherlock was a bit surprised to hear John say this, but he knew immediately that it was sentiment. He'd never had the best of memories when it came to remembering the names of John's female friends.

"Mycroft tells me that she was lovely."

"Well he would know, after I moved out of here, I came home one afternoon from the clinic to find them both sharing lunch, talking freely, and laughing so much, one would have thought they were long time friends."

Sherlock reached his hand out, he'd only meant to pat John's hand or his knee, to try and offer him comfort, but John took his hand and held on.

Looking off into the fireplace, John felt a bit awkward, but he continued lightly squeezing Sherlock's hand before he finally released it.

"You left me Sherlock. I would have helped you. "

"I had to leave John, I didn't want to, believe me, but it was made known to me that your life, as well as some others, would be forfeit if I stayed. I had to locate Moriarty's Hench-men before they could carry out any of his horrible plans."

"You said earlier that there was only one person still at large."

"Oh yes, the one who was closest to him, his right-hand man, the one who did the dirty work while Moriarty could kept his own hands clean."

"The one who would make someone into shoes I suppose…"

"Yes, I haven't forgotten that _lovely_ line myself." Sherlock said dryly.

"With him at large, have I put us back in danger by revealing that I knew you were alive?"

"Oh, he knows I'm alive alright. As his buddies began to be arrested for various crimes and jailed, he realized that without its head, the web was finally disintegrating. Our paths finally crossed about a year and a half ago in Italy. I can't rightfully say if he followed me to London or if I followed him. He's been here the same amount of months. Mycroft knows his every move, if he tries anything, it will be his last."

John looked at Sherlock, "We're not just going to wait until he makes a move are we?"

Sherlock smirked, "Well, I had hoped you could spare a few days from your practice at the clinic…"

John smiled in return, "Oh, God Yes."

"Great!" Sherlock rose from his chair and began moving around the room freely, full of energy, talking a mile a moment in describing their quarry and how they would succeed in setting their trap.

"Wait a moment, John interrupted Sherlock's pacing, we've had a cook for the last month, why are you still skinny as a stick?"

"Oh John, you know I can't eat when I'm on a case."

"Umm, yes, I know how you think you can't eat while you are on a case, but that's going to stop as of right now."

John went to the top step and called down to Mrs. Hudson.

"Mrs. Hudson, I'm warming up supper now, looks like we've got ourselves a guest, and I'd say he's in desperate need of a good cooked meal."

Before he could finish speaking, Mrs. Hudson could be heard squealing with delight as she rushed up the stairs and straight into Sherlock's arms.

"My Boys….my boys…" she said over and over as she and Sherlock pulled John in for a group hug, "Welcome home, oh, I have missed you both so much…"

They all laughed until one by one, the room became very quiet, which would have been awkward, until above Mrs. Hudson's sniffles came the loud rumblings of John's growling stomach.

Three hours later found Mrs. Hudson stretched out on the sofa, John sitting in his comfortable chair and Sherlock playing Beethoven. Mycroft watched their window from his car, looking down at the folder in his hand, he finally instructed Gerald to drive off. The good news of Sebastian Moran's capture and arrest could wait to be shared in the morning.

The End.


End file.
